On Sundays I have breakfast with oranges and... JAIME TORRES BODET

ORANGES

Oranges from China,
little golden oranges
falling, ripe,
in the corral of my house
of a neighboring house,
rolling down the walls...

Little golden oranges
that she brings, in her basket,
a little girl who comes
singing since dawn:
Little oranges from China,
Won't you buy me oranges?

Oh, how they remind me
of my home plot,
with the cheerful color
of their little sour leaves!

How many things it tells me
of my distant life
that little girl who comes
selling oranges!
Little oranges from China,
doesn't she buy oranges from me?...

Sun... province... songs...
That little girl passing by
doesn't understand that, screaming,
she is selling my childhood!

Jaime Torres Bodet

If you want to know more about this Mexican writer, you can see his biography his biography here.

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